Scars of Love,Flames of Betrayal
We held each other, both crying again, mourning what we’d lost while celebrating what we’d found.
When we finally pulled apart, Josephine wiped her eyes and smiled through her tears. “I’m sorry. I keep crying. I just can’t believe you’re really here. That you’re really mine.”
“I can’t believe it either.”
We returned to the living room, settling back onto the sofas. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting everything in golden light.
“Tell me about Phoenix,” Josephine said. “What’s he like?”
So I did. I told her about his laugh, his stubborn personality, his love of climbing on everything. I showed her pictures on my phone, and she studied each one with the devotion of a grandm